


Scourge

by crime_to_kill_a_mockingbird



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Investigations, Murder, New Orleans, Serial Killers, Smut, Spooky, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24628492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crime_to_kill_a_mockingbird/pseuds/crime_to_kill_a_mockingbird
Summary: Sansa Stark, an author collecting research for her new book, travels to a place known for it's secrets and culture. A place where anyone classified as different, can feel at home.There she meets a dangerous man with an infamous reputation. She puts herself in harms way for the sake of her novel and ends up collecting far more than research along the way.
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Sansa Stark
Comments: 64
Kudos: 52





	1. Big

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS!!!
> 
> So, there's a lot I want to talk about.
> 
> First, the setting is New Orleans for a lot of reasons, but the main one being that I fell completely in love with that place when I went on a trip last year. This story has been running around in my head since then, so here it finally is!
> 
> Also, most of the stuff I write about in this story is actually REAL. I learned a lot about ghosts and vampires on my trip there and N'Orleans happens to be a pretty big hot spot for beings that people label as 'supernatural'.
> 
> The 'real life vampires' referenced in this fic are, in my opinion, what all the stories are based off of. Yes they drink blood. No they do not have all the other supernatural elements that you see in typical gothic literature or movies/tv shows. I go much more in depth about this in the fic, so read on and enjoy.

"-and remember to be careful."

Sansa rolled her eyes as she leaned back on the rickety bed in the hotel room that she only just got settled into.

"Yes, mum. You tell me that after every sentence." Sansa breathed a laugh, using her hand to fan herself. Nowhere in her research did it say how unbearably _hot_ the French Quarter got around this time of the year.

"Well, Sansa… I have a right to be nervous. There were _six_ unexplained murders there last month!" She argued hotly. "And you're there by _yourself_ to investigate dangerous creatures and what not."

"Dangerous creatures?" Sansa laughed. "Mum, you have _never_ believed in the possibility that they could exist, no matter how much evidence I provided."

"Yes, well, I do believe in creepy freaks that lure young women and hurt them!" She countered.

Last month there were six bodies found just outside the french quarter, all with their throats ripped out and blood drained. All of them were women and all naked. And what only added to the strangeness, was the white handkerchief tied around each victim's wrist. It had been crazy popular on the news and on every tabloid everywhere because of the correlation to vampirism. Either way it was still terrifying regardless of whether it was a human being or some other creature.

"I know, mum, I know." Sansa sighed as she stood from the four-poster bed and unscrewed the top of her water bottle, which was dreadfully _warm._ She choked down the water, pretending it was cool and refreshing.

"But you know how much this means to me. This is a trip of a lifetime for me. It will make such a good story." She explained, twisting the coiling telephone cable around her fingers; her long nail snagged on the wire momentarily.

Sansa Stark was an author. Well, could she call herself that even though she hadn't yet published a book? She had _just_ -only a week ago- graduated from university for english literature and creative writing. She also dabbled a little (a lot) into myths and legends… gothic literature. She was a geek like that.

Recently she's been interested greatly in the history of New Orleans. Jazz, ghosts, witches, _vampires._

The french quarter especially was rich with history. Most tales were horrifying that she'd read online… it was clear that the people that lived here were far more intune with their surroundings. They were just… okay with the stories that tourists have told. Did they believe them, too? Was it entertaining for them to witness?

Sansa was here to answer those questions and to delve deeper into the history that seemingly still _haunts_ and _stalks_ the streets at night to this very day.

She'd only just arrived a few hours ago, and so her investigation begins tomorrow. She didn't want to hear a word from the mouth of a tour guide… because 90% of that was bullshit every time. She wanted the truth. She wanted the story from the locals.

When she first drove into the city, she took a walk just outside of the french quarter, spending a great deal of time making notes and sketches of a large cemetery. It stretched miles and contained only above the ground coffins and tombstones, making it even creepier than the usual cemetery where bodies were buried.

She had done a lot of research to pick the perfect hotel to stay in. She wanted to have the real, authentic french quarter experience… at a reasonable price, so she settled on the Andrew Jackson Hotel.

It was a small townhouse style and by no means glamorous… but it was decorated with old-world furniture and haunting stories. In fact… It was one of the most haunted hotels in New Orleans.

The building itself had experienced a lot of tragedy over the years. It used to be an orphanage for boys who had lost their parents to yellow fever back in 1792; yellow fever would come back every summer to wreak havoc and kill thousands of men, women and children. However, in 1794, a fire raged the streets of the french quarter and took down the orphanage in the process with four boys still inside. A courthouse was immediately built and then later demolished and turned into the hotel it is today.

Every building in the french quarter had a story like this one. Which is why it was perfect for Sansa's research. She wanted to write a story, the truth, about _myths_ told here. About ghosts… about vampires.

Not a glorified version like most of the vampire stories nowadays. A _real_ story. A _nonfiction_ story about vampires. It hasn't really been done before. Not in the way Sansa intended at least.

Before Sansa retired to bed, she pulled out her leather back note book and wrote out some descriptions of the hotel. How it smelled like lemon wood polish and dust. How the wall paintings were just as creepy as the rest of the place. How she hasn't yet experienced anything out of the ordinary, except for the noisy kids running in the hall. She was tempted to call the lobby and complain, but decided to just let them have their fun for now.

The following morning she found herself walking along the cobblestone streets, occasionally stopping to listen to the street music. There was a wicked clarinet player that was just _insane_. She alone was the reason for the gathering audience. Sansa listened for a time before carrying on, stopping every other block for a cold drink.

She finally found what she was looking for, a small gothic-style clothing shop. She stepped through the threshold, the smell of leather hitting her full force. She walked around the cluttered shop slowly to digest it all. The clothing was mostly black: dresses (some provocative), shirts, pants, bracelets/cuffs, boots, makeup, and hundreds of accessories. Sansa was inspecting the earrings when the shop lady approached her.

"I haven't seen you 'round here before. Visiting?" The older lady asked as she found her place at Sansa's side.

"Yes." Sansa smiled as she plucked a pair of silver skull earrings from the stand. "I'm doing research for my book, actually."

"A book?" She questioned, tucking back her purely silver hair to reveal -surprisingly- an ear full of piercings. "'Bout what?"

Sansa had planned on searching for stores like these and asking around as her way to start searching. She figured she should start with this lady, as she seemed to have been around her for a while.

"Vampires. Do you know any?" Sansa asked, looking around the shop. There was a mother and a daughter in the far corner and a middle aged man that had just entered.

Her eyebrows rose on her forehead slightly. "Sure, lots. They come here often. Why, there's one here now."

Sansa's eyes snapped over to the man with dark spiky hair and thick eyebrows, dozens of chains around his neck. "Not him."

Sansa brow furrowed as her eyes found the daughter and mother again. _She's a vampire?_ She didn't seem like the type: dressed in a white blouse with a black vest on top and dark pants to match. The daughter was dressed rather brightly in a blue tank top and jean shorts. Sansa herself was wearing jean shorts, except she had a light grey shirt.

Sansa wanted to approach her but the woman in front of her started talking again. "She tends to keep to herself, but you can try."

Sansa smiled politely. "Thank you." She looked down at the earrings in her hand. "How much are these?"

Sansa kept a close eye on the lady as she paid for the jewelry and thanked the lady one last time. As she got nearer to the woman, her head snapped to the side to stare at her in question.

"Hello." She started cautiously. Was she supposed to be cautious around these people? "My name's Sansa. I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment?"

The woman looked down at her daughter, who seemed to be admiring Sansa's bright auburn hair with curiosity.

"Bout what?" She asked slowly, keeping her mouth strangely closed.

Sansa took a step forward as she smiled politely, invitingly. "I'm a writer. I'm doing research for my book." The woman stayed silent so Sansa continued. "I want to write about the truth here and I've been told that you may have some information that you can share with me. Information about… vampirism?"

The woman seemed unaffected, simply blinking in return. Then she bent down and whispered something in her daughters ear and the girl then ran out the door.

The woman stood straight and took a small step forward. "Name's Shae." This time she spoke normally, showing off some pointed teeth.

Sansa shook the brunette's hand. "It's nice to meet you." She paused. "So are you… y'know?"

"A vampire?" The woman laughed. "Yeah."

Sansa laughed nervously. "Is that the title you prefer?"

"It is." She concluded, crossing her arms.

"I was wondering if there was anything you could tell me about, perhaps, your lifestyle?" Sansa asked, not knowing exactly what to say now that she found one.

"Pretty similar to ya'll, really." She started. Sansa paid close attention to those menacing teeth of hers. All of them seemed to have been pointed: sharpened. "I'm a psychic vamp, so I feed off energy."

"Oh?" Sansa questioned, curious now. She pulled out her note book and pen. "There's different kinds of vampires?"

"Ah, yeah. Sanguinarians drink blood 'nd hybrids feed off both blood 'nd energy." She explained and Sansa hastily jotted it down.

"That sounds interesting. Can you tell me about you? About psychic vampires?"

She nodded. "Yeah, alright. Well… I started to feel it 'round puberty. I always felt drained. Then every once in a while when I had some kinda intimate touch with someone, like hand holding or even a hug sometimes, I would have this surge of energy. Slowly I discovered that I needed other's energy to feel good. I never take from people that would notice. Only ones with lots of energy to give, you see."

"And does it always have to be an intimate touch?" Sansa asked as she scribbled notes.

"Nah, I usually tend to feed through tendrils 'cause it's safer for the donor 'nd more discreet. I can do it from a distance by piercing their aura." She told Sansa, making the red head's eyebrows raise in surprise.

This seemed a little too far fetched… but interesting all the same. Definitely good for a novel.

"Thank you, Shae. That's very helpful. I'd love to ask you more questions, but I don't want to keep you if you're busy." Sansa said as she closed her notebook and smiled easily.

"I am actually, yeah. But if you still want some notes, there's a NOVA meetin' this afternoon." She told her, peaking Sansa's curiosity.

"NOVA?" She questioned, cocking her head to the side.

"N'Orleans Vampire Association." She replied. "Haven't heard of it?" Sansa shook her head. "Self-identifying vampires gather together. I go every once in a while."

"What's the purpose?" Sansa asked, opening her book again to write down _NOVA_.

"It can be lonely at times, as I'm sure you can imagine. We do a lot there, but I should really get goin'. Here, I'll write down the address n' time." She offered and Sansa immediately passed over her book so she could write in it.

Sansa had gone back to her room after looking into a few more shops along each block. She changed into black tights and a white long sleeve blouse. It had cooled down substantially now that the sun was setting.

She made it to Fritzel's Jazz Bar early and sat on one of the barstools as she scanned the rest of the customers in search of any clues.

The bar was nice. Old fashioned and fun; lively and authentic. There was a pianist on the small raised platform near the front that was playing a relaxed tune which seemed slightly familiar to Sansa, though she couldn't for the life of her identify it.

She was a drink and a half in before she spotted the first one (that she could identify). As she watched a group, whom she was certain were the people she was looking for, gather together at a large table… she began to realize something. They looked nothing like she imagined. Even more _normal_ looking than the woman at the store earlier. They dressed in a typical fashion with a typical haircut and a lack of piercings and tattoos like she may have pictured. Now, that's not to say they weren't _all_ very normal looking (whatever 'normal' meant). Some _did_ have nose, lip and eyebrow piercings that went along with the face and neck tattoos and black gelled hair. It was quite the variation.

No one in the bar seemed to take much notice of them besides Sansa. Did they not know? Did they just not care?

Sansa often wondered if the locals thought they were crazy, or if they truly believed it all. She scribbled a note in her book to ask a reliable source that question at a later time. Right now she had some vampires to interview.

She tucked her hair back behind her ears neatly and prepared her notes under one arm as she paid the bartender and approached the secluded corner where the vampires were socializing.

A man with curly blond hair noticed her first and soon the entire table quieted down as she stood awkwardly beside their table. _What to say now…_

"Hello! My name's Sansa and I'm-"

"One a dem journalists lookin' to headline us as this week's freaks. Naw thank you." The man interrupted her, narrowing his eyes intimidatingly. This one didn't have a creole accent like she was used to when speaking to locals around the french quarter, but a true bayou cajun accent.

Sansa twisted her mouth in thought, wondering how to approach them now. "No… I… I'm a writer. I want to write a book about the history here: ghosts, witches, vampires. I want to write the truth."

"How did you find us?" A woman wearing a bright green top asked her, no southern accent present in her voice.

"Shae, one of your fellow -uh- vampire friends… told me where I could find you." Sansa admitted, shifting from foot to foot.

"Shae?" Another one questioned. "Why, we haven't seen her in a few weeks." The brunette speaking now had an english accent, which seemed strange to Sansa; there was a wide range of accents here.

"Well… we're sorry but we ain't interested." The blond spoke up again, waving his hand to dismiss her.

"No, no, wait! I…" She looked down at her notebook where Shae's messy handwriting lay. She read out the last line. "Let the flesh instruct the mind!"

Every single person froze.

Sansa felt as if she'd crossed a line: done something very wrong.

But then the blond man smiled and offered her his hand. "Sorry miss… we just get a lotta harassment when we out in the public together."

Sansa blanked. _What just happened?_ It was like they all did a 180 on her.

The lady with the green shirt started laughing as she shook Sansa's hand energetically. "Oh, dear! It was a password of ours that we give to strangers when we trust them. When we want to invite them here. Let's the rest of us know we're safe."

 _A password._ That made sense.

Sansa spent hours with them, collecting boat loads of information -far more than she ever imagined she would get. They were incredibly friendly as well.

She learned that sanguinarian vampires drank blood between 2-4 times a week on average. The most typical area to feed from seemed to be the back, on the shoulder blades. When she asked why, they told her many reasons: it was a less suspicious area to have a wound in, less intimate, and less likely to accidentally nick something major when making a cut. And yes, that was another thing she didn't expect… most sanguinarians don't break skin with their teeth. Lots used a knife/scalpel and then lapped at the bloodied area or some even a syringe to avoid the mouth to skin touch at all. And they always found donors to give them blood: "We don't hunt people down!" One of them joked.

She discovered that NOVA wasn't only beneficial to its members, but also to the community. NOVA annually gives out food on the holidays to the homeless as well as offers education and comfort to those in need.

She was having quite a good time when the door was pulled open and a rush of cooler air drifted in, arising goosebumps along her arms.

The people she was sitting with suddenly quieted down and Sansa shifted in her seat to get a look at the person whose presence had affected this group of people -vamps- so drastically.

He had dark, midnight hair with a flash of silver at his temples and grey eyes. He had salt and peppered facial hair and wore a dark blue button up shirt and matching slacks. He was attractive, that was the first thing Sansa was able to register. _Very_ attractive. He sat down alone at the barstool she had previously been occupying and ordered a drink.

"Who's that?" Sansa found herself asking.

The woman beside her breathed a laugh. "He's a vampire as well. He's not like us, though."

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked, curiosity spiked.

"He doesn't have the same morals as we do when it comes to feedin'."

They didn't seem to want to give her any more details about this mysterious man, so she let it be for the rest of the evening… though she found that she couldn't stop glancing his way every few minutes.

One time when she looked towards him, she caught his eyes and everything seemed to freeze for a time. Her body suddenly felt like stone as she blankly stared back. His eyes were dark and staring straight into her, straight into her soul.

"Sansa, darling?"

Her head snapped back to the group of people around her. "Yes? Sorry, I was just…"

The British woman laughed. "Trust me, I get it. He's attractive. But he's also dangerous." She said teasingly, making her blush. "I heard from a donor once that he refused to feed from her unless it was from her neck, bitten by his own teeth. He manipulates… _Lures_ women into his bed and feeds from them there… It makes the act far more intimate."

"It's sick." Someone else spoke up. "A woman I spoke to once said that she didn't know he was a vampire until they were in bed together and he just bit her without asking."

Sansa wasn't sure what to make of these accusations. All she could think about was the feeling of his heavy gaze upon her person, and how it made her feel important.

Sansa waited and waited, not wanting to upset the people she was with. And finally they all went home for the night and the mysterious man from earlier remained in his seat, drinking by himself. She snuck at her reflection in the glare on the picture frame showcasing a newspaper, before approaching him.

She sat on the barstool beside his, keeping to herself as she ordered a beer and began sipping at it.

"I wondered when I'd be speaking to you tonight." He said, his voice lacking any sort of New Orleans accent… He was Irish.

He spun on the stool to face her. Gods, he was even more attractive up close. "Are you one of us?"

Sansa swallowed thickly, feeling on edge with the exciting prospect of danger. "No. I'm a writer. I'm trying to collect research for my book."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Hmm, and so you want to speak to the big bad vampire so you have a reference for your villain, I'm guessing?" Sansa opened her mouth, then closed it again, not knowing quite how to respond to that. He breathed a laugh. "I know what they say about me, sweetling."

"Well, is it true? The things that they say?" She asked him, drumming her fingernails nervously against the wood of the counter.

"Some of it." Was all he mysteriously replied.

"When did you move here?" She asked curiously, hoping to get an interesting story from him.

"A few months ago." He stated.

"Would you… be willing to answer some questions for me?" He didn't answer for a long moment, taking the silence between them to down the rest of his drink.

He slid the empty glass away from his body and then sharply turned towards her, crossing his arms over his chest. "What do I get in exchange?"

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Already, he was different from the other's she's met. They offered her up any information she wanted with no price tag attached. But not this man.

He smirked over at her, catching her surprised reaction. "Everything has a price." He reminded her. "Miss…?"

"Sansa Stark." She offered. "And sorry, what did you say your name was?"

His smirk broadened. "I didn't."

Her shoulders slumped, realizing he was serious about nothing being free. Not even his name. She looked him up and down again, like she had when he stepped through the door. He was dressed dark, with equally dark but defined features. Like he had mentioned just a moment ago, he would make the perfect villain in her story. The perfect _bad boy_ that people would still root for.

"Well…" She started, fully drawn in at this point. "What's your price, then?"

"Price for what, sweetling? My name or my answers?" He leaned closer to her and his voice dropped a decibel. "My story?" He leaned back away, a smug expression lighting his face as he watched her squirm. "Two very different prices, I'm afraid."

"Your name?" She asked, wanting to know his price. She opened her journal and pulled out her handy pen which she carried everywhere. He watched her actions carefully.

"What's that?"

She wanted to roll her eyes and ask if he was going to answer all her questions with more questions, but she only sighed in frustration and answered. "It's just my way of making notes so I can remember specific scenarios or quotes later on when I actually start writing."

"I see. And that?" He asked, leaning into her space to run a finger down the open page laying in front of her. He was asking about the few lines she had the others write so she could add direct quotes into her novel.

She explained the notes and one side of his mouth turned upwards. He snatched the pen from her hands and turned the journal in his direction. "Hey!" She exclaimed, frowning.

Though he didn't scratch anything out or steal the journal or throw it away, like she might have expected. No, instead he started writing, his penmanship a sharp sort of cursive style.

He turned it back towards her, placing the pen in the crease between the two pages.

_I think you're very beautiful._

_-Petyr Baelish._

She tried not to blush, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but it was a difficult task. _Petyr Baelish,_ she repeated in her head.

When her eyes sheepishly met his again, he had that signature smirk firmly in place. "That's an interesting way to spell 'Peter'."

She noticed his fangs had been sharpened slightly, not really enough to notice in conversation, but with him smirking at her in such a close proximity… it wasn't difficult to see. Though she didn't comment on them yet.

He chuckled, seemingly expecting her to comment on his note and finding it humorous that she completely skipped over that part.

"My mother liked unique things." He shrugged.

"Then she must find it very intriguing to have a vampire for a son?" Sansa asked, though she abruptly closed her mouth when his eyes flickered down and a layer of grief crept across his face. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"That's alright. It was a while ago." He said sadly, but Sansa could tell by the way he said it that it really wasn't that long ago.

"Why don't you participate in NOVA meetings and events?" Sansa asked, trying to change the topic.

He scoffed. "They don't welcome vampires that don't follow their strict rules." He said bitterly. "They call me a monster because I enjoy what I do."

Sansa cocked an eyebrow in question. This was the kind of stuff she wanted to know about… write about. "Enjoy what exactly?" She asked as she scribbled down what he just said.

He glanced briefly at her journal and then back down at his hands, which were adorned with many rings. He seemed slightly bothered by the fact that she had written down what he had said.

"Nevermind that." He unfortunately responded.

They suffered through a long awkward moment of silence before Sansa finally caved. "So, what's your price, then?"

He chuckled, the grim expression that had previously clouded his face was long gone. He turned towards her again, looking her deeply in the eyes. She noticed upon closer inspection that he had flecks of green in those dark grey orbs. The perfect eyes for a character… and the perfect eyes to get lost in.

"Have you ever thought about being a donor yourself?" He unexpectedly asked. She blinked in surprise. "It would be great for your… _research."_ He added, eyes lighting up as he said the last word.

He wanted to feed from her? _Was_ she okay with that? The thought made her stomach flip nervously.

"Uhm… Not really, no." She responded truthfully. The thought _had_ crossed her mind, but not seriously. She didn't exactly love the idea of being put in such a vulnerable position. Besides… it would hurt and she would be incredibly uncomfortable.

"Well," he leaned back to look at her better. "That's my price."

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and chewed on it as she considered what he was offering. As if reading her mind, he added: "I'll tell you anything and everything you want to know about my story and about vampirism, if and only if, you let me feed from you."

Somehow, he could even make _that_ sound seductive. This man, Petyr, had some sort of talent to be able to do that: be unbelievably sexy in any situation. Did he make every woman he speaks to, feel this way? Or was she just special? -Sansa doubted it.

"Hm?" He placed his warm hand on her shoulder. "What do you say, sweetling?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check in everyday for updates. I will be posting the next chapter tomorrow and the final one on Thursday.


	2. Bad

Some people, her mother included, would find her decision to go to her hotel with this dangerous stranger, crazy. But there was something about him… something secure. Dangerous, yes, she felt the danger surrounding him… but she also felt safe in a twisted sort of way.

Her gut, her intuition, was almost never wrong. But of course, that didn't mean her decision was  _ smart. _

He claimed he didn't want to speak of such personal matters in such a public place, so he suggested his apartment. Seeing as Sansa was not inclined to have people witness the 'feeding', she agreed, though she didn't feel safe enough to go to his place. So she settled on her hotel room, where she knew she could scream and be heard by other guests. He seemed fine with that.

_ "This _ is the hotel you chose?" He asked with an amused tone of voice. They walked through the front door and into the dingy hallway where an old vintage red couch was pushed up against the wall.

"I wanted to get the whole experience." She shrugged, justifying her choices.

"Hm, is that what this is then?" He asked, grabbing her elbow and stopping her in the hallway. He closed in on her space until her back was against the wall, a picture frame above her was threatening to fall on her head. He gestured to the space between them.  _ "The whole experience?" _ He breathed into her ear.

She sucked in a shaky breath before standing up straighter and pushing on his chest. He stepped back. "This is only so you'll tell me your story and answer my questions." She reminded him with raised eyebrows.

He chuckled darkly. "You can't deny that the writer inside of you is  _ dying _ to experience such a thing." He emphasized 'dying' with an intimidating smirk that made her stomach flutter nervously.

Dangerous, he certainly was.

They walked up the creaking stairs to the second level where Sansa counted down the doors until she found number 22. She put the key in the lock and pushed open the door.

She immediately frowned when she spotted the hotel phone hanging off the table, it's coiled wire stretched straight as it slightly swung back and forth. She walked over to it cautiously, completely forgetting about Petyr, and bent to pick it up. She held it up to her ear but heard nothing, so she put it back on the base, hanging it up with a loud click.

"Weird." She said aloud, jumping when Petyr closed the door behind himself.

He smirked, amused that she was on edge already. "I thought you were aware that The Andrew Jackson is one of the most haunted hotels in New Orleans?"

Sansa licked her lips, looking around the room for any other odd signs. "I am, but…" She shook her head. "It was probably just the maid that knocked it off, anyways."

_ "Probably." _ He teased, taking a seat on the couch beneath the large window that overlooked a street in the French Quarter.

She took a seat beside him, being sure to put space between them. She wasn't sure how this was supposed to work, so she just avoided eye contact as if she were a scared teenage girl that was about to experience her first kiss.

"Why don't you tell me a little about yourself?" He asked, adjusting on the couch beside her so his legs were crossed, his ankle resting over his knee.

She finally turned to him. "What?" She asked unintelligently.

He smiled almost kindly her way. "Well, you seem a bit tense, so I figured-"

"Oh!" She shook her head to clear it for the second time since they entered the hotel. "Right, sure. Well… I live in Canada, way up North."

"Gosh, coming here must be a pretty drastic change, then." He asked, moving his arm behind her so it rested along the back of the couch.

Sansa laughed. "We still have mountains of snow up there this time of the year, so yes." She paused. "How about you? Ireland isn't exactly the hottest place in the world, either."

He smiled fondly. "No, it isn't. It's far more… dry here."

She copied his smile in turn. "I've never been, but I'd like to."

"Oh, it's brilliant. I miss it." He told her, a flash of vulnerability sparking in his eyes.

She tilted her head to the side, feeling more comfortable now. "Why did you move?"

He dropped the eye contact and swallowed thickly. Sansa watched as his Adam's apple bobbed under the pressure. "A lot of reasons." He said softly.

It became clear to her that he wasn't going to elaborate anymore on that particular topic. He shifted closer to her on the couch, immediately capturing her attention. His eyes had darkened slightly and it was somewhat terrifying to Sansa. She suddenly realized that, gut feeling or not, she had no idea what he was capable of.

"Petyr…" She breathed, leaning back against the armrest of the couch to get further away from him.

He was on his knees on the couch now, leaning over her. He slowly, sensually, placed a hand on either side of her as he leaned closer. His eyes didn't leave her's for a second. "I agreed to let you feed from me, Petyr… nothing else." She reminded him.

The corner of his lips twitched but they didn't pull up into a smile or the infamous smirk she now seemed very used to in the short time they've spent together.

He leaned down so his lips grazed her's as he spoke. So close that she felt the warmth of his breath tickling her skin, setting it on fire.  _ "Don't tell me you don't want it, sweetling." _

"I-" She hesitated,  _ why did she hesitate!? _

"You know… This place is so haunted that no one would bat an eye if they heard you screaming." He pointed out, making her eyes widen. His voice lowered. "You see, Sansa… that's  _ normal _ here."

She didn't respond, not knowing how to. She knew she should be scared, and she was, but a large part of her was also very aroused and that mixture of two very intense emotions was confusing her immensely.

His lips moved across her jaw like a feather, still barely touching her skin. He breathed hotly against the side of her neck. "I don't even have to touch you to feel your pulse hammering, Sansa."

Licking her lips, she placed her hands on his shoulders. She had half a mind to push him away and half a mind to dig her nails into his button up and drag him closer.

He didn't give her a moment to decide, however, for he suddenly grabbed one of her wrists and brought it to his mouth. She had about three seconds of shock before she felt his teeth sink into her skin and pain rippled up her arm. She gasped, but it sounded more like a scream and her entire body jolted and squirmed beneath his.

He didn't bite very deep, and it only lasted a moment before his fangs detached from her wrist. "There you are…" He said, voice deep and dark. He showed her his bloody fangs, wrapping his tongue around each one to taste her as she watched intently.

"You… you could have given me some warning!" She accused, watched as his pupils dilated and his focus shifted from her face to her now bloody wrist.

It wasn't bleeding too badly, just one drop from both small puncture wounds, but it was enough to sting terribly. He made a noise as he got closer. It was some kind of groan or growl that originated somewhere deep in his chest. His tongue shot out to first swipe the drops of blood beading on her skin. His eyes closed as he tasted her before going in for more.

She expected it to hurt more as he suckled at her wound, but it didn't really. He had his eyes closed most of the time, as if he were kissing her, which -she supposed- he kind of was. Kissing, sucking, licking… it was very intimate. Though after some time, his dark eyes shot open and they immediately sparked with her's; she felt something inside her ignite at the same instant.

Her lips parted in surprise from the intensity of his eyes, trying to keep herself together. She was curious as to how much he would drink from her. Everywhere she read, it said they only take a few drops… but he's certainly taken much more than that already.

He finished soon after she thought that, letting her arm drop. It throbbed a little from the puncture wounds made by his teeth, but it wasn't bleeding anymore. He had a bit of her blood smeared on his bottom lip, and she stared at it for a moment. That is until his lips stretched into a smile and her eyes were forced back up to his.

He purposely swiped his tongue across his lips to clean the stain, humming in appreciation afterwards. "You taste delicious, sweetling."

Her cheeks went bright red, hearing the double meaning behind his words. He leaned down again to whisper in her ear. "I could drink you dry."

A tingle shot through her body. Fear? Excitement? Both? Either way, it was powerful and it was passionate.

When he pulled away, it was completely. He stood and started finding his way to the landline. "I should call down to the lobby to see if they have a first aid kit. I can patch that up for you."

"Oh, uh-" She finally found her voice as she sat up and adjusted herself. "No need. I have one in my suitcase, there." She pointed to the small white hard-back case that stood at the end of the bed.

He seemed surprised, and slightly impressed as he made his way over to it. As he was getting it, Sansa took a moment to try and calm her pounding heart. She looked down at her wrist. The skin was damp from his mouth, and there was more blood now. Though it was only a tiny dot on each wound.

A piece of gauze suddenly covered the two identical punctures that she was staring at, and she jumped slightly in surprise. He had kneeled down in front of her, medical tape in one hand and ointment in the other. He frowned slightly and raised his hands to show he wasn't going to hurt her.

"It's okay, sweetling. It's over now." He assured her, waiting for her to nod her head before continuing with his doctor act.

He applied the ointment generously considering the injuries were so small, and then covered it with the gauze and tape. "There, all better."

"Thank you." She breathed, feeling very small all of a sudden.

He sat back down beside her and offered a warm smile. It was like he was two different people. The person that fed from her moments ago was  _ not _ the person looking at her now; the person that just took care of her wound.

"So," he clapped his hands together. "You have questions for me?"

"Oh!" She felt beyond flustered as she scrambled for her journal and pen. She flipped it open and removed the pen's cap. Suddenly his hand shot out and rested firmly on her knee. She jumped again, cursing herself immediately afterwards.

"Sansa… breathe, love." He told her seriously. She listened to his instructions, letting out the breath she didn't know she had been holding in. "You're safe with me." He let go of her.

She wanted to argue that point, but the words refused to form on her tongue so she looked down at the page in front of her. She had made questions to ask earlier and the only way she could think of to get past what just happened, was to read them out, so she did.

"Uhm, there's a lot of myths about vampires. I wrote down some of them here, and I was hoping you could tell me which of these actually have some truth to it, and which really are myths." She told him, her voice slightly shaky, but if he noticed, he didn't comment on it. He nodded along. "Alright, so, sleeping to start. I'm assuming you sleep?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I sleep. And no, not upside down or in a coffin, either."

She scribbled down the notes and moved on. "Strength and speed?"

"I'm not special in that regard, no."

"Garlic?"

He laughed then, and it lightened the mood substantially. Sansa felt a little lighter hearing it. "Funny enough," he continued. "I'm allergic to garlic, but I think that's just a me thing. Though, I haven't spoken to many other sanguinarians, so I'm not sure."

She was happy to hear that, knowing it would be a good thing to add into her book. "Okay, uhm, reflection?"

"Completely visible."

"Sun light?" She inquired.

"I burn easily, but that might just be my pale Irish skin." He shrugged with one shoulder.

She jotted that down, along with  _ pale _ , because that was a classic vampire trait that he so happened to possess (even if it wasn't the same for the rest of them).

"Shape shifting?"

"No."

"Psychic powers?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Supernatural healing?" She asked with a quirk of her lips. She knew none of this would be a yes, but she had to ask. He shook his head. "Okay, last one… Immortality?"

He smirked, watching her for a long moment. "What if I told you I was over 300 years old?"

She blinked, not expecting such an answer. "I… Would call you a liar." She shot back, thought part of her had her doubts; that young, dreamer inside her that believed in fairytales.

He laughed. "Then I would say you're correct."

She smiled, happy to have the chance to interview him. "When did you realize you were a vampire?"

"Around puberty." He replied without pause.

"And how would you describe vampirism?"

He thought about it for a moment. "A lot of people tend to think that we think of ourselves as supernatural beings. We don't. We're humans, just as human as anyone." Sansa recorded these answers with her small tape recorder, so she didn't miss anything in her notes.

He paused, licking his lips and trying to sting his thoughts into proper sentences. "Vampirism is a  _ disease _ . One that doctors can't diagnose, no matter how many centuries pass. So we have to take matters into our own hands and find our own treatment. For sanguinarians like me, that's human blood."

"And what symptoms do you have from this disease? And how does blood help?" She asked next, leaning forwards with interest.

"Years ago, when I was young, I decided I was done drinking blood. No one understood what I was going through or why I needed it and it made me very lonely for a very long time." He swallowed hard and Sansa realized what he was telling her was extremely personal and a difficult topic for him to address. "I felt extremely down after a few days without blood. After a week I felt completely depressed, unmotivated and without an ounce of energy. It didn't matter how well I ate or what kind of shape I was in… if I didn't get a few drops of blood everyday, I turned out that way."

"How long did you go?" She interrupted him, not able to help herself. This was the most interesting topic in the world for Sansa.

"Two and a half months. During the second month, I started to hurt everywhere. My head was pounding and spinning, even my muscles ached. A few weeks after that I started feeling so drained that I could hardly stand, and when I did I had a splitting migraine. I was hospitalized shortly after that, but of course, they couldn't find a single thing wrong with me." He ran his hands through his hair, making it look slightly unkempt now.

"But I knew what was wrong with me. I haven't had a drop of blood in months. When I told them that, they thought I was crazy." He explained, and Sansa could see the frustration in his eyes. "But they knew something was going on because my heart rate was very low, and shot up high whenever I tried to stand. I even lost consciousness a few times."

If Sansa wasn't a believer before, she sure was now.

"When it became clear to me that the doctors weren't going to do a thing to help me, I called one of my mates and I fed from him in the middle of the emergency room. I felt perfectly normal twenty minutes later." Petyr ended with a shrug.

Sansa's lips parted in surprise. "That's miraculous."

He chuckled. "That's what the doctors said. And that's how I knew I truly needed it to survive. Before it was just something that helped when I felt physically or mentally drained, but it's a lot more important than that."

"Would you mind if I included that story in my novel?" She asked him, jotting down a few thoughts that sprang to mind.

He shrugged. "I guess not."

She looked back up at him, seeing the conflicting emotions in his expression. "Petyr, I… I don't have to if you don't want me to."

He sighed deeply. "No, you can. I just-" He shook his head a little, his eyes distant. "You should remember that this is my life. I know it's just a story to you, but it isn't to me."

She looked down, slightly ashamed for immediately jumping to her own selfish response to his story because of her own excitement and intrigue. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. It isn't just a story to me, not really, I've spent the last few years of my life studying gothic literature and you have no idea how unbelievable it is to meet you and hear about your experiences." She paused, meeting his eyes again. She found understanding there. "But I was insensitive and I'm sorry."

He nodded. "It's okay. I understand." He smoothed his hand down his thigh, tapping his fingers against his knee for what Sansa could identify as a nervous tick of his; that and scratching behind his ear. "There's just a lot of people out there that… Well, just think we're crazy."

"I'm sure. I mean I get judged just for studying them  _ -ah- _ you  _ -ah- _ vampirism!" She cursed herself for talking without thinking, but he didn't seem offended in the least. In fact, he started to laugh.

"Don't worry about it." He assured her, his hand on her knee once more, though the action seemed less innocent than last time.

She sighed, shaking her head at herself as she laughed. "I'm sorry!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. He only waved off her apology.

"To be honest, it  _ could _ all be in my head. I don't know. Maybe I am crazy." He joked, rolling his eyes. "But all I know is that the blood from others makes me feel alive."

Sansa smiled at him for a moment before she jotted that line down. _ Blood makes me feel alive. _ She liked that a lot.

"What makes  _ you _ feel alive, sweetling?" He asked, eyes narrowed in on her. It seemed he was done with talking about himself. Though Sansa was okay with that seeing as she got pretty much anything she could think of.

"Handsome strangers." She replied, tilting her head to the side to capture his reaction.  _ Oh, so she was flirting now, was she? _

His lips were parted and pulled up at one side, making a sloppy half-smile.  _ "Hmm,"  _ he batted his eyelashes playfully at her, his hand tightening around her knee. "By  _ strangers _ do you mean  _ vampires?" _

She laughed, biting her bottom lip. "Maybe."

"Or am I just special?" He added with a quirk of his brow.

She smiled, tight-lipped as she tried not to laugh. "Well, I've never actually spoken this long to a vampire before, but I have to admit… the whole dangerously mysterious vamp thing has its own appeal."

Petyr chuckled, his hand sliding slightly up her leg, resting just over her knee now. His touch was lighting her body on fire. A dangerous thing, fire; sometimes it serves to be the most valuable element in the world, and other times… well other times it will swallow you whole without a trace of mercy. Passion was just another form of fire in Sansa's eyes.

And Petyr was an inferno of passion.

"Does it?" He asked, shifting closer to her. She hummed in response, trying to decipher whether she really wanted to be flirting with this man. Did she want him to make a move on her? Did she want to, gods,  _ sleep _ with him?

He seemed to sense her hesitation, for he withdrew his hand entirely and stood up. She stared up at him in question. Now that his heat was gone… she wanted nothing more than to have it back… have it consume her.

"Do you like wine?" He asked, swaying slightly back and forth as he waited for her response.

"Uh, yeah sure, who doesn't?" She asked rhetorically, earning a wink from the man standing above her.

We walked to the telephone. "I wonder if this place will bring up a bottle?" He thought aloud as he dialed the number for the lobby.

"Oh, wait! I-" She paused, suddenly embarrassed. "Well, I could hardly afford this trip. I can't exactly be wasting money on bottles of wine."

Petyr smirked over at her as he held the phone to his ear. "First of all, it's not a waste. Wine is delightful. And second- oh yes, hello!"

Sansa giggled as she listened to him order a bottle of some kind of red wine that she'd never heard of. "You don't have that? Okay well what's your finest bottle?" He paused, rolling his eyes at whatever the person on the other line had said. "I suppose that'll do."

He hung up the phone and approached her once again. "And  _ second, _ " he continued. "I'm offended that you think I'd have wine sent up here and not pay for it."

Her cheeks reddened as she looked up at him. "It really is getting late though…" She trailed off, looking out the window at the dark street, wondering if she should ask him to leave. The smart move would be yes, but in truth she enjoyed his company.

"I can go if you want me to." He told her, voice serious. "I've just really enjoyed speaking with you, is all."

"No," she decided. "I don't want it to end just yet, either."

He smiled then, a real smile.  _ The flames engulfed her. _

There was a knock at the door and Petyr walked over to answer it, handing the man a wad of bills from his wallet without a problem in exchange for the rather large bottle of wine.

He was also given two glasses, and Petyr made himself useful by pouring them each a generous amount. Sansa had her eyebrows raised teasingly when he turned around, but he ignored it and sashayed over to her.

"Come on, let's have a little wine. Have some fun." He said, offering his hands. She pursed her lips as she stared at them in thought. "Sansa!" He exclaimed, reaching down and grabbing her hands. She was laughing as he pulled her to her feet.

"Fine! I'll have a glass. But only one." She told him sternly, accepting the glass he was offering. He led her to the bed, and she bit her bottom lip nervously, but didn't say a word of complaint about it.

He sat at the end (respectfully?) And leaned against one of the thick wooden beams that stretched high. She sat with her back against the headboard and her feet tucked in beneath her, though once a whole glass had gone down, she stretched out a bit and somehow her legs found a home in his lap.

Sansa had just been laughing about something he said, taking another generous mouthful of wine. "So… why do the others not 'approve' of you?"

Petyr sighed, though he had a gentle smile across his face. Sansa wondered if that had to do with her presence or the wine's; possibly both.

"Well, you see… when they feed it's only when it's absolutely necessary and normally they'll make some sort of small cut with a knife and squeeze out a few drops. They normally feed in very specific areas as well, but that's not my preferred style." He explained, swirling the wine around in his glass.

"And what is your preferred style? The wrist?" She asked, thinking back to an hour ago when he fed on her.

He met her eyes and she could see the fire in them, flames licking teasingly. "The neck, of course."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. "So why didn't you feed on me there?"

His eyes dropped from hers and unexpectedly explored her body in a lazy motion before they moved back up again. "I tend to save that for other… more  _ explicit _ activities."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened before she burst out laughing. "You feed and… do  _ that… _ at the same time?"

"Oh yes."

_ "Hmm." _

Petyr chuckled and raised his glass to his lips. "That's a pretty loaded noise." He declared.

Sansa shrugged, not able to keep the grin off of her face. "I'm just curious about it, that's all."

"Curious about what part, exactly?" He inquired with a teasing lilt to his voice. "The blood sucking part or the hot vampire sex-"

"Petyr!" She exclaimed, cutting him off before he embarrassed her any further. He pursed his lips, trying not to show how amused he was.

She looked down at her now empty wine glass and held it up in front of him. He got the hint, like the last three times she'd done it, and reached for the bottle, only to discover it was empty.

"Did we drink all of that!?" Sansa exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. Petyr laughed, laying on his back across the foot of the bed and stretching out his arms.

"Seems so." He sighed, closing his eyes.

"Hey!" She nudged him with her foot. "Don't fall asleep here."

He groaned, reluctantly opening his eyes. He turned his head in her direction and smiled lazily. "You really are beautiful."

She breathed a laugh, but only because she wasn't sure how to respond and she felt embarrassed under all his praise.

"No, no." He said as he sat up. "None of that." She felt like she was being scolded but she wasn't quite sure what it was for. He moved closer to her on the bed, crawling on his hands and knees like the animal she knew he truly was deep down inside.

"I see you, Sansa Stark. And you're beautiful." He was on top of her now, his chest pressing against hers and his breath fanning across her face. "You can't hide from me anymore."

She licked her lips, a subconscious action, but it caught his attention immediately and it seemed to be all the invitation he needed to lean in. His lips barely touched hers when the landline started ringing. The fire was  _ that _ close to scorching her.

He sat up on his knees, straddling her now, so she could answer the phone. And when she did, she realized she was completely out of breath.

"Um, hello?"

"Sansa! How was your first day?" Her mother's chipper voice sounded from the other end of the phone, bringing her completely out of her wine-induced trance.

"Oh, uh, good. Great."

Petyr's chest was rising and falling in a quick rhythm as he looked down at her.

"Are you alright?" She asked, concern laced in her voice.

"Yeah, sorry I just… could I call you back in a minute? I just woke up from a nap." She lied, knowing it wasn't all that believable seeing as she never took naps, let alone in the late evening.

"Oh, yeah okay." Her mother agreed, saying goodbye before hanging up. Sansa hung up the phone and then looked sheepishly back at Petyr.

"I guess I should get going, then?" He asked, not moving from his place on top of her.

She bit her lip and nodded. "It's probably for the best."

_ "Hmm." _ He hummed as he moved off of her and started pulling on the shoes he had previously removed.

Sansa wanted to throw his own joke back at him about that being a loaded noise, but she didn't. "Are you walking?" She asked, making sure he wasn't planning on walking back to the bar and then driving home.

"Yeah, I only live a few blocks from here." He told her as he finished with the laces of both shoes.

"Are you going to be alright?" She asked, wondering if those streets were safe to walk at night.

He scoffed. "You forget, sweetling… I'm the  _ big bad vampire, _ remember?"

Sansa rolled her eyes but didn't bother commenting on that. She walked over to the door with him, feeling bad that he was leaving. She didn't really want him to, but then again they only  _ just _ met.

He opened the door, but she caught his hand before he stepped over the threshold. "Wait!" He turned back, glancing down briefly at her hand in his and then up into her eyes. "I'm sorry the night didn't end how you wanted it to, Petyr. I just-"

She stopped her rambling when his hand cupped her cheek firmly. His expression was unreadable when she searched his face for answers. He gave none away until he slowly leaned down, stopping just before his lips touched her to give her a moment to pull away if she wanted to. When she didn't move, he pressed his lips to hers.

He smiled down at her when the kiss ended, keeping his hand on her cheek. "I had a wonderful night."

Sansa smiled in return, feeling his hand finally leave her cheek and settle on her shoulder instead. "I did, too." She told him.

"Perhaps I could see you tomorrow? How long is your trip?" He asked, a hint of vulnerability in those dark eyes of his.

"Two days. And yes, I'd like that. We can… continue the  _ interview _ ." She told him with a shy smile. He chuckled, squeezing her shoulder.

"Great. So I'll pick you up? Here. Sometime in the morning." He declared and her eyebrows shot up.

"No, Petyr, you have to give me an actual time." She scolded playfully.

"Where's the mystery in that?" He shrugged.

"What if I'm not dressed!?"

"I'll be delighted!" He replied without hesitation and she laughed, smacking his chest. He chuckled, too. "Fine," he caved. "Nine?"

"Nine." She repeated. "See you then."

His lips twitched into a side smile as he leaned down to leave a soft kiss on her cheek. "Sweet dreams."

Sansa felt oddly light as she cleaned up their glasses and the empty bottle. She called her mum back shortly after and told her how productive her day was, though she left out the part of Petyr coming back to her hotel room and feeding from her. She did say she made a friend, though.

She readied herself for bed, drawing the heavy covers over her body and turning off the lamp. She spent a long time just laying there, looking at the bandaged wound on her wrist. She ran her fingers over it, remembering what it felt like to have his mouth there.

She understood why the other vampires didn't welcome him. He went against what they believed and the way they lived their lives. Where they drink the bare minimum, he has his fill. Where they do everything to ensure the donor's comfort and protection, he selfishly took what he wanted: what felt good. He liked the fear that coursed through her as he fed. Some people would call him a monster for that… Sansa just found it exciting.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of someone running loudly up the stairs. She frowned, thinking  _ how inconsiderate can you be? _

It stopped for a moment but then she heard it again, though this time there had to be at least two people running up the stairs. Or were they running down? She heard a few shouts and fits of laughter and she rolled her eyes. What parents let their kids run up and down the stairs this time of the night in a hotel?

A half an hour went by and they still didn't stop, so Sansa finally caved, rolling over and picking up the phone. She called the lobby and they picked up after two rings. She left her complaint, but another twenty minutes passed and no one did anything about the noisy kids. Eventually, however, she must have fallen asleep, because she woke at eight the next morning to the alarm clock beside the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have any questions about anything in this story, just let me know!
> 
> ALSO I wanted to mention. NOVA (New Orleans Vampire Association) is a REAL THING. You can even google it. You can even become a donor. -Like I said before, most of this stuff I didn't make up. I tried to stay as close to the truth as possible.
> 
> Everything about the vampires in this story is based off of what I heard and discovered myself while I was there, and also with a little help from a few articles like this one: 
> 
> https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2015/10/26/inside-the-human-blood-drinking-real-vampire-community-of-new-orleans/ 
> 
> So give that a read if this has interested you.


	3. Vampire

She groaned, reaching across the pillows in search of the screeching device. Finally, her fingers found the button and she pressed it in annoyance. She sighed, rubbing at her tired eyes. She could feel the drowsiness that the wine had caused last night.

Last night.

Last night was crazy. It was terrifying and exciting and passionate and confusing and fun and all she wanted was to do it again: to be near him.

She had a quick shower, choosing today to let her hair dry naturally in loose curls. She sprayed some anti-frizz in it and checked her appearance. Pleased, she brushed her teeth and changed into a simple summer dress.

She went downstairs to wait for him outside the front door, but he was already there waiting. He looked as dashing as ever in a dark green, black and white pinstripe button down shirt and white capri pants with fancy dress shoes that started dark brown at the toe and faded to a light brown by the heel. There was a piece of cloth tied around his wrist, which matched his pants. He also had a light fedora on his head and a cigarette in his mouth.

He spread his arms when he spotted her, smiling. "Sweetling! Good morning." He reached up to remove the cigarette from the corner of his mouth and threw it on the ground, stomping it out with his foot.

"Goodmorning." She replied, taking a moment to check him out. He looked sexy as hell dressed up so nicely.

He moved closer to her, leaning down to kiss her cheek in greeting, like he'd done last night. "You look nice."

Sansa breathed a laugh. "I was thinking the same thing about you." She admitted, making him raise his eyebrows in pleasant surprise.

"Why thank you, sweetling."

"I'm glad to see you made it home alright." She told him as they started walking along the cobblestone road.

"Worried about me?" He teased. She rolled her eyes and chose not to answer. "Was there anywhere in particular that you'd like to go or do?"

"Uhm, well I think it'd be interesting to have a tarot reading. But besides that, I don't really know where the good places are here." She told him. He hummed in response and she quirked an eyebrow at him. "Don't believe in all that?" She inquired.

He shrugged, laughing easily. "Not particularly, no. But we can go if that's what you want."

"I just want to experience it all." She explained, smiling in thanks as he guided her past a large group of people.

"I understand that. Though if you don't mind, I'm going to wait for you outside. Witch folks don't tend to like my type." He told her as he stopped just outside of a doorway with hanging beads and gems.

"Your type?" She asked, forgetting for a moment why she spoke to him in the first place.

"Blood sucker, love." He winked.

She flushed from embarrassment but ducked her head downwards so he wouldn't see. "Why don't they like your type?" She asked.

"Just a difference of beliefs, I suppose." He shrugged, but Sansa wanted to know more about these differences for her book, so she asked him to further explain. He shrugged again, this time with one shoulder. "Well, you know… people who believe they have a magical influence like fortune tellers, palm or tarot readers… anyone who feels they have psychic powers are known as witches amongst the locals. And the witches believe their magic is pure. But vampires feed off other people's energy, which they feel is a crime." He paused for a moment to let some people by without them being able to hear what he was saying.

"They think we practice some form of dark magic or something along those lines. Also, any witch will believe in auras and will likely tell you their's is as bright and white as it can possibly get. In saying that, the thought of a psychic vamp piercing their aura and draining their energy sounds terrifying to them. And as for sanguinarians? Well, they just think we're monsters." He finished. Sansa's brain was having trouble digesting all of that information. He must have read her expression because he began to laugh. "Like I said, just a difference of beliefs."

"Right…" She breathed, eyeing the entrance. "Well… I'm going to see what kind of _magic_ they have to offer." She told him with raised eyebrows. He half rolled his eyes and gestured towards the entrance.

It was everything she would have expected: Crowded space, dim lighting, foggy atmosphere with burning incense in the back. She was led behind two separate curtains blocking them off from the rest of the store. Even the woman doing her reading was what she would have expected with draping clothing and long manicured nails, completely covered in jewelry from head to toe.

She did multiple readings for Sansa: her year from January to December, a reading of the past, present and future of a specific person in her life (which she chose to be her mother). Both readings were strangely accurate in Sansa's opinion. The final reading was about her 'soul mate', which she wasn't even sure she believed in. The last reading interested her, though… It spoke of someone she met recently that has a darkness surrounding him. The woman spoke continuously about a fire that Sansa will supposedly feel when she's with him. It spoke of many obstacles, but over all a strong bond. But it wouldn’t have a happily ever after. They apparently wouldn’t end up together in this lifetime. “But the next,” the woman claimed. “Will be where you will reunite and the stars will align just perfectly after so many attempts.”

When she returned outside she had to squint and shield her eyes for the first few moments after spending so long in such a dark atmosphere. She found Petyr easily, talking with an almond skinned man who sat lazily in an old, cracked plastic chair. He had a beaten silver trumpet in his hands. She watched Petyr offer him what looked like a cold lemonade, and the man graciously accepted and thanked the man standing before him.

"What was that?" She asked as he made his way over to where she stood. Petyr smiled as the man started playing a familiar tune on his trumpet.

"Abel. Just a local I see around often. I buy him a drink every once and awhile." He shrugged, offering his arm as they started walking. "He's got incredible tone."

He was talking about the music he was playing, Sansa knew, for she loved jazz deeply. It was a part of her soul. One of those things that she knew that she wouldn't be herself without.

"That's sweet." She replied as they turned a corner. Petyr shrugged, tilting his fedora at a group of men as they passed. He seemed to know quite a lot of people in the few months he's lived here. "Why did you move here?"

He glanced at her for a moment as they walked, taking his time thinking up a response. "After my mother died I just… needed a change. And I know New Orleans is sort of a hot spot for people like me. I wanted to meet someone that understands my lifestyle." He paused, looking bothered all of a sudden. "And although I have met some great people here, I haven't had much luck with the NOVA group, as you know."

It occured to Sansa then, that Petyr was upset for not being welcomed into the group; that he moved here specifically for that reason. He felt like he wasn't accepted no matter where he went.

"I'm sorry, Petyr."

He gave her a strange look. "For what?"

She looked forwards as they continued down the street, knowing that what she was about to say would make him feel vulnerable and not wanting him to feel too uncomfortable.

"You just want to feel accepted for being who you are. I'm sorry that you haven't felt that way your entire life." She was assuming, she knew, but from what he's confided in her so far, it didn't seem like much of a stretch.

He didn't answer and she didn't push him any further. She just wanted to let him know that she understood. That she sees through his mask. She sees him.

She wasn't sure why the others wouldn't accept him. What did they see that she didn't? That thought scared her a little. Though maybe it had more to do with what _she_ could see that they couldn't.

They soon arrived at their next location, which Petyr kept hidden from her. There was a large black door that was firmly shut, a tall lady standing outside of it with her back pressed up against it. Sansa looked up to read the signs hanging above their heads. _Preservation Hall,_ it read, gold block letters printed onto what looked like old instrument cases. One of which was undoubtedly a trombone case.

She'd heard about Preservation Hall. "This place is magical, I tell you." He said, his voice low as he leaned down towards her. "It's a jazz venue meant to protect and preserve the traditional New Orleans jazz style. It's practically been my home since I arrived here."

Sansa loved listening to him talk about something so passionately before. It was clear this place meant a lot to him. "When I'm here, I think of nothing but my mother. She's everywhere, here."

Sansa was surprised at that last part, hearing him open up like that about something so close to home for him. Something so raw. She tightened her grip around his arm in response. "Show me." She whispered back.

He smiled down at her, directing his attention on the lady in front of them. They were soon escorted through the door. There was clearly fans blowing continuously throughout the concrete walls, as Sansa immediately felt the cool air rush over her body in waves as she stepped inside.

She wasn't quite sure what to expect upon entering but it wasn't what she was seeing before her: a relatively small room with low wooden benches that stretched the length of the room -which was maybe 5 by 10 meters long- but closer to the instruments that were set up at the very front, there were large pillows lining the floor for people to sit on if there were no room left on the benches.

Sansa and Petyr seemed to be one of the last ones to enter the hall, for every bench was taken up, save for enough room for one person in the center of the very first bench. Assuming it would be more comfortable to sit on the pillows together with their backs against the bench instead of cramming between people, they settled on the ground.

Sansa thought it would be uncomfortable but in truth, it wasn't at all. In fact she probably would have gotten uncomfortable watching a two hour long performance with no back rest if she were on a bench.

Petyr didn't speak to her the entire two hours; it just wasn't the kind of place to do that. Instead he wrapped an arm around her and they sat together in a blissful state as they listened to the musicians improvising in beautiful and unique ways. Sansa was entranced in the performance. Completely blown away by the way this small room crowded with people and jazz, made her feel undeniably content. She truly understood what Petyr had meant when he said he practically lived here. Sansa felt as if she could stay there for hours, days even.

It truly was a magical place.

She also enjoyed his company, of course. He held her close against his side when they first sat down and didn't let go until the musicians concluded their performance for the day. His presence was intoxicating. His heat welcomed; it had a way of burning through her skin and warming her insides.

She was disappointed when it ended, reeling for more. Petyr seemed pleased when he saw the cloudy look in her eyes. "I take it you enjoyed it?" He asked her once they stepped back out into the heat and chaos of the French Quarter.

She grinned. "Oh, Petyr. I loved it!" She told him, closing her eyes and sighing. "I loved it so much."

"I'm glad." He smiled, stepping even closer to her, his hands bracing her shoulders. The chaos around them suddenly moved in slow motion and the noises dulled down to a quiet background noise as his eyes moved down to her lips.

She parted them instinctively, knowing it would appear as an invitation. Which, really, was fine by her. He seemed to take it as such, for one of his hands cupped her chin and his lips met hers for the second time ever.

It was slow and long and sweet and perfect. He tasted of mint, and the flavour lingered in her mouth long after he pulled away; so did the feeling of butterfly wings tickling the insides of her stomach.

They grabbed an early dinner, both hungry from missing lunch. It was a beautiful building. The room was large and circular, a rustic wooden dance floor in the middle, outlined by long white pillars. The tables, quaint and beautiful, were topped with a white cloth and a candle in the center. And to top it all off, a large black grand piano sat in the center of the room on the beautiful dance floor, a pianist filling the room with a rich, classical tune.

Sansa was a little worried about not being dressed up enough, but after taking a look around the restaurant, she realized that her and Petyr were dressed up rather nicely compared to the rest of the customers.

They were seen to a nice table behind the musician, but with a gorgeous window view of the colourful streets below. Petyr stopped her before she approached her chair and pulled it out himself, reminding her of his age; it was certainly a part of his age that she greatly appreciated.

She thanked him as he sat down and removed his fedora, sparing a moment to fix his hair. Though in truth Sansa thought it didn't need fixing at all; she liked it when it looked so disheveled.

The waiter asked for drinks and Petyr, not surprisingly after last night, ordered a bottle of red as well as water for the both of them.

"This is fancy." Sansa said aloud, not knowing quite what else to say. Petyr sensed her discomfort and flashed her a toothy grin, showing off those dangerous fangs. Something about the danger made her feel hot all over, like she was a match slowly burning away, right down to her bones.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, though his cocky expression made it seem like he’d asked something else entirely.

“No, I do. It’s beautiful.” She quickly corrected.

“You don’t want me to treat you?” He asked next, looking amused.

“I-” She hesitated. “I’m just not used to all this, that’s all.”

His amusement steadily died off. “I’m sorry you haven’t been treated like you should be.”

She frowned. Has she not been treated how she should be by her past boyfriends? She’s certainly never been taken to a place like this before, let alone had a man go out of his way to push her chair in for her, or to make sure she knows he has the bill covered. She wasn’t one of those women that expect -or even want- a man to pay for her all the time, but it was nice to have one offer, especially when she was already spending so much money to travel here in the first place.

“I’m just not used to coming to places like this.” She shrugged, taking a nervous sip of her water once the waiter dropped it off.

“I’m not really, either.” He admitted, enjoying the surprised expression that crossed her face. “I never had time before with all my work, but when my mum passed away, I decided to take a break from it all and move here for a year or two. The only reason I have the money to do so is because of my mother. I’ve dined here a few times since I arrived, now that I have the time to. It’s very nice.”

“You and your mother were close, I gather?” She asked, liking that the spotlight of the conversation was on him rather than her. He nodded but didn’t elaborate any further, reaching for his wine instead.

Petyr ordered a crawfish etouffee, which Sansa realized was a very fancy looking dish that seemed ten times more posh next to her jambalaya. He chuckled when she ordered such a meal, but didn’t judge as he claimed that New Orleans made the very best she would ever taste. And in truth… It was very good. They finished their meals rather quickly and instead of ordering dessert, Petyr told her about a cafe on the way to her hotel that made fresh beignets, which was a signature dessert here in N’Orleans. So they made their way there instead.

The cafe was rather busy, but luckily they scored a table outside overlooking the water. The sun was just starting to set, casting the sky a soft orange. Sansa got caught up with the gorgeous view, admiring the reflection of the sun in the rippling water and the cool breeze gliding across her skin. She almost didn’t notice Petyr looking at her. She turned towards him expectantly, surprised when he dropped her gaze and even seemed a little embarrassed to be caught looking at her.

He breathed a laugh, meeting her eyes again. She stared at him in question, tilting her head to the side. He parted his lips to answer her unasked question, but hesitated again as his eyes swept over her.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He uttered, his voice unexpectedly raspy.

She wanted to laugh off his compliment, like she normally would because of how uncomfortable compliments make her, but she couldn’t. Not with him staring at her with such an intense heat; with such a serious passion. She could tell by looking into his eyes that he really meant what he said.

“Oh!” She breathed, feeling herself smiling. She knew she was red in the face because of the smirk he offered her, but she didn't try to hide it.

She really shouldn't be getting so attached. She was leaving tomorrow. But it was hard not to get lost in his eyes. They were a very greeny blue, like shallow carribean water. But they also held a darkness; one that she was frightened of.

Luckily, she was saved from having to respond when the waitress dropped off their basket of beignets with a jolly smile. Sansa’s eyes widened when she saw them. Fresh pastries dusted in a sugar frosting. They smelled to die for. “Go on.” Petyr urged her, gesturing to the basket. She tentatively reached in and brought one to her mouth. It was the size of her palm, light as a feather, and the white snowy sugar was already getting all over her fingers; she knew there was no way to eat this without getting messy. So she just went for it and took a big bite. Sure enough the powdered sugar got all around her mouth but she didn’t even care because it tasted _so_ good.

Petyr chuckled, reaching for one himself and taking an equally big bite, though he only got a little of the sugar in his goatee, which he immediately cleaned with his top teeth. Sansa laughed, feeling true happiness in the moment.

“What do you think?” He asked, looking away from the array of colours in the sky to catch her attention. She grinned.

“I understand why it’s a staple. They’re very good.” She declared, reaching for her second.

“I’m glad you like them.” He said gently, turning back to watch the rest of the sunset. There was a certain sadness about him all of a sudden. Sansa felt her happiness quickly diminish at the sight of him struggling with his thoughts.

“Petyr?” She asked softly, resting her hand atop his on the wired metal table to get his attention. He looked caught off guard when his eyes connected with hers once again. “What’s wrong?”

He swallowed visibly, licking his lips. “Nothing really, sweetling. It’s just that I used to watch the sunset with my mother when I was a boy. Her work schedule was crazy after my dad left and it seemed like the only time we both really had a minute of peace was when we’d sit on the porch and watch the sun disappear behind the treeline.”

Sansa felt touched that he was opening up about something so personal. She felt honoured to be able to know the most vulnerable parts of him. “Moving here was kind of an escape for you, wasn’t?”

He nodded, stroking his thumb over the top of her hand calmingly. “She wanted me to come here. Told me to. It was her wish for me to get away from that old life and to start a new one. One where I can be myself completely and not feel the need to hide it.”

“I’m glad you’ve found that here. I know you didn’t find exactly what you were looking for with NOVA, but I’ve found the locals here are a bit more accepting when it comes to unique people.” She said, trying to be comforting and supportive. He seemed to agree with her, giving her an easy smile.

They left shortly after that, walking hand in hand down the cobblestone roads. The streetlights were only just turning on, lighting their way back to her hotel. Petyr had offered to walk her there safely, though she suspected he had ulterior motives behind his gentlemanly manners. She wasn’t oblivious, she felt the sexual tension between them grow at every passing second. She just wasn’t sure if she really wanted to do something about it or not; she knew _he_ definitely wanted to.

"Well," he sighed as he came to a stop beside her. They stood in front of her hotel. Sansa felt her stomach flip, knowing that she would need to make a decision and fast. She could either invite him up, or say goodbye to him forever 

"...I guess this is goodbye?" He finished, tilting his head to the side in question. Sansa slowly nodded, drawing her bottom lip between both sets of teeth. "I've really enjoyed getting to know you, Sansa."

She smiled, feeling slightly more at ease. "I've enjoyed getting to know you, too."

He pulled her in for a hug and Sansa breathed in deeply, trying to scar her memory with his spicey, musky scent. His arms tightened around her before loosening entirely and backing up enough to catch her lips with his. Sansa sighed regrettably into the kiss as she stepped closer so her chest was pressed against his.

His hand moved to the back of her neck while the other caressed along her jawline, guiding her mouth against his. It was by far the best kiss she's ever experienced.

When he finally pulled away, they were both out of breath. She blushed when he gave her a smirk, fisting the material of his shirt and resting her forehead on his shoulder to hide. His arms wrapped around him again, his one hand stroking up and down her back.

 _Just say goodbye_ , her mind urged her.

 _Just invite him up and shag his brains out,_ her heart (and admittedly her ovaries) persuaded.

"Would you…" She started, losing her nerve halfway through. She looked up at him, watching his expression turn more serious.

"Yes?" He asked gently, cocking an eyebrow

"Would you like to come in for a while?" She asked, not used to inviting someone in for a one-time thing. Though maybe he won't expect sex and she can just see where the night goes naturally.

He grinned, his fangs reflecting the light of the hanging lantern behind her. It made goosebumps rise along her arms. "I'd love that, sweetling."

She chewed on her bottom lip as she led him through the door and down the hall, his hand on the small of her back, sending sparks of nervous pleasure up her spine.

"Hello!" The chiper lady behind the counter greeted them both. Sansa smiled in return. "How has your stay been so far?"

"Good, except…" Sansa started, thinking back on her sleep last night. "I called down late last night about kids running up and down the stairs, but no one ended up doing anything about it."

The lady didn't look surprised. In fact, she smiled knowingly. "Ma'am, the person working last night didn't do anything because we get that same call about a dozen times a week."

Sansa frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well," The lady started, pointing to a sign hanging just behind her. "This is an adult only hotel."

Sansa frowned. She was even more confused now. "So how were there kids here last night?"

"There wasn't, ma'am." She countered immediately, looking amused.

"There was! I heard them all night." Sansa shot back, getting irritated with this woman now. Petyr chuckled, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"Sweetling, you do remember why you chose to stay at this particular establishment, right?" He asked mysteriously. It finally clicked in her mind and she gaped.

"You mean…?"

"They run the halls and the stairs almost every night." The woman cut in. Sansa was shocked, despite the fact that she _had_ in fact booked this place because of it's haunted stories. She heard an actual ghost. Or multiple, even.

"Oh." Sansa muttered. "Well, okay. Thanks."

Petyr was amused as he pulled her up the stairs by the hand. She unlocked the door, letting Petyr in before closing it and locking it behind them. "I never even considered that they could be-"

"Ghosts?" Petyr offered with a smirk.

She nodded, tucking her hair back behind her ear, suddenly feeling very nervous now that they were alone and inside her room. "I have to write that down!" She suddenly exclaimed, busying herself with pulling out her journal.

"Write what down?" He asked as he followed her further into the room, watching her sit down on the end of the bed.

"Ghosts!"

He sat down just behind her, leaning on his arm casually. He chuckled, the warmth of his breath fanning across the skin of her bare shoulder as she opened and started writing. "You're curious about spirits, too? I'm not enough for you?" He joked, making her laugh and easing more of her tension.

She didn't respond to his comment, instead writing down everything she heard last night as well as her conversation with the lady behind the desk just a minute ago. Though she was distracted the entire time due to the presence behind her. He knew what he was doing, too; lightly tracing his hand along her shoulder and around to the dip in her collarbone. He even started placing dry kisses on her neck.

She hummed, her body feeling buzzed by how much he was working her up; she was even tingly all over and the butterflies were erupting inside her stomach. But still she continued to write, not yet sure if she wanted to take things further with him or not. She had only ever been with one other guy before, and he was a boyfriend at the time. One she had been with for two years, even.

Eventually, when she ran out of things to write about, his lips moved up to her earlobe and he dragged his teeth over the skin. "Put the book down, Sansa." His husky voice demanded right beside her ear, making a shiver run straight down her spine.

She did as she was told and sat very still as he adjusted behind her. Slowly he drew her face towards his and connected their mouths together for a passionate kiss, which soon led to him guiding her into the middle of the bed. She wasn't even sure when he got them into position, but he was then hovering over her, his entire body pressed deliciously against hers; it made her throb down below.

Her brain felt fuzzy as his lips trailed across her jaw and down her neck while his hands moved her legs apart and started dragging up her dress. Something inside her suddenly clicked and it was like she resurfaced, realizing what was about to happen.

"Petyr, wait!" She gasped out as she pulled herself away from him. He looked startled as he sat up and removed his hands from her.

"What's wrong?" He asked, voice so strained she was surprised it was audible at all.

She inhaled deeply to try and catch her breath as she stared up at him with wide, embarrassed eyes. "I-I just…" She swallowed. "I've never done this with someone I barely know."

He seemed to understand, for he backed off entirely and sat beside her instead. "Okay." He said simply.

"You aren't disappointed?" She blurted out. "I know you want to."

He offered her a wolfish grin that eased her nerves and distress. "Sweetling,… Look at you… _Of course_ I want to, but I'm perfectly happy to just talk to you for however long you want me."

She smiled, feeling a lot better and a lot less pressured. "Thank you, Petyr." She let out a relieved sigh.

He rested his hand on her thigh comfortingly, giving it a small pat. "I may be a vampire, my darling, but I'm not a monster."

She giggled, turning her body in his direction to face him properly. "I know you're not." She said seriously and with all the confidence and certainty in the world. He may frighten her at times with his intensity, but she knew he would never hurt her.

But then again, the best psychopaths are charming.

"It's probably for the best, anyways." He sighed, lacing her fingers with his. "I tend to lose control."

"What do you mean?" Sansa asked, those nerves spiking yet again.

“When I’m… doing that… I get other, far more darker urges that are incredibly hard to resist.” He said, forcing air out through his nose in a sigh. Sansa tensed up slightly. What could he mean? Feeding, or something else? He cleared his throat, clearly feeling uncomfortable.

Sansa was conflicted, because despite his darkness and the danger surrounding him, she somehow trusted him. And not like she trusted other people. She _trusted_ him: with her life, her body, her heart. She felt insane, falling for someone she's only known for a day. Maybe he _was_ crazy for feeling the need to feed off of human blood, but if he was crazy, so was she.

And what was the point anyways? What was the point of falling in love with him? She was leaving tomorrow morning. And he was staying here.

"Is that a vampire thing?" She asked, finally finding her voice.

He laughed. "I suppose."

Sansa bit her bottom lip, trying to ignore the ache her body was feeling for him. Did she want to have sex with him? _Fuck yes._ But she was unsure because she's never been the type of girl to fuck someone she's only just met, especially if she knows it's only going to be a one time thing. But damn, she wanted to.

"What time do you leave tomorrow?" He asked, pulling her hand into his lap and caressing the back of it soothingly. She tried to ignore the still very evident bulge in his trousers, so close to where her hand was. She went red regardless, thinking about just how much she had affected him with only a little bit of kissing.

What would it feel like to have his hands running along her bare skin? To have his lips tasting every part of her? To have him bury himself as deeply inside of her as he possibly can? To hear him make noises of pleasure and to look into his eyes as he neared his end?

"Sweetling?"

Sansa blinked, letting out a breath she hadn't known she was holding in. "Are you okay?" He asked with an amused laugh. Had she been zoned out?

She laughed in embarrassment and blushed again because of what she'd been thinking about. "Yeah, sorry."

"Penny for your thoughts?" Petyr asked with raised eyebrows. She blushed harder. "Oh?" He teased upon seeing her reaction. "Perhaps a penny isn't enough."

"No, it isn't." She agreed with a cheeky smile.

He brought her hand to his mouth and left a kiss there before letting their joined hands fall back into his lap, resting right over his softening groin. She chewed anxiously on the inside of her cheek, tempted to let go of his hand and grab something else…

He sighed heavily, shifting her attention back to his face. "You can't stay any longer, can you?" He asked out of the blue, the sadness evident in his voice.

"No," she sighed. "My plane ticket is for tomorrow around lunch."

He pursed his lips, deep in thought, before slowly nodding. "I'm going to miss you."

Sansa was pleasantly surprised to hear him say such a thing, for she felt the very same way. "I'll miss you too, Petyr." She admitted, making him smile. "I've really enjoyed the time we've spent together."

"As have I, my dear." He said genuinely, letting go of her hand to wrap and arm around her and pull her close against his side.

She was relieved to be against him again, feeling his warmth and soaking it up. "Petyr?" She asked, feeling hesitant but needing to know the answer.

 _"Hm?"_ He hummed as he drew patterns, or words perhaps, onto her skin with his fingers.

"If we didn't live so far away from each other…" She started, licking her lips and smiling when she got a brief taste of mint that must have been lingering from their shared kiss earlier. "Would things between us be different?"

"No." He said simply and her heart sank. But then he smiled and added: "Everything would be the same with you and I, except for the fact that I won't have to say goodbye to you tomorrow. In a perfect world, I wouldn't just have a day and a half with you… I'd have forever." He paused, emotion clouding his eyes. "Or for however long you'll want me."

She wasn't sure how to respond to that, a thick lump of emotion was clogging her throat anyways, so instead she pulled him closer by the neck and kissed him hurriedly.

He responded in kind, his hands everywhere all at once. Everything about him, Sansa realized, was consuming. His voice, his smile, his scent, his hands, his body, his eyes, his mouth; it was all too much, but at the same time, not enough. Not nearly enough.

"Sansa…" He breathed into the next kiss. It sounded like a caress, his tongue stroked each syllable of her name like he physically stroked the inside of her mouth.

She felt herself sitting up and moving to straddle him, though she wasn't sure if it was her idea or his. His hands were on her waist, guiding her on top of him, but it felt like it was a mutual decision.

Now that she started, she didn't want to stop. She wanted all of him while she had the chance. Her hands felt down his broad shoulders to his sturdy chest, all the way down to the hem of his shirt. She slipped her hands beneath the material and sighed at the warmth of his bare stomach. She felt a small patch of hair above his trousers, which she knew to be his treasure trail. She moved upwards, over his ribs and up until her hands settled back onto his now bare shoulders. Their mouths broke apart for a brief moment so she could rip the material up and over his head.

His hands somehow ended up on the back of her bare thighs, underneath her dress. He used that as leverage to pull her body against his again, his bare chest hot against her clothed one. Suddenly her clothes were really starting to bother her.

She pulled away again to yank up her own dress and throw it away, watching as Petyr's eyes widened at the sight of her. His hair was in slight disarray and his chest, heaving. The sight of him right now was probably the most sexy thing she's ever seen in her life.

"Kiss me again, sweetling." His husky voice drawled.

She leaned forwards, placing a hand on either side of his head, and gave him a heated kiss. She felt his hand move up to the bottom of her spine, sending shivers straight up. She hummed -or perhaps it was more of a moan?- into his mouth, making him press his hands harder.

She ran her tongue over one of his fangs, admiring its sharpness, and wondering how many women's skin it has pierced. Then she thought back to how it felt when he fed from her.

Her skin was now pressed directly to his and the sensations it was creating was like nothing she's ever felt before. It was _hot._ Her skin was set aflame everywhere he touched, and certainly everywhere he kissed. His lips made a wet trail down her neck to her chest where he started gently biting at her nipples through her bra. She whined as she threw her head back.

That seemed invitation enough for his hands to find the clasp of her bra and undo it. He tossed it carelessly to the side as his eyes devoured her bare breasts, before he truly devoured them with lips and tongue.

"Mm, Petyr." She breathed, fingers tangling in his midnight black hair, nails scratching at his scalp.

Soon his mouth returned to hers. She sat up a little more so she didn't have to hold her weight up with her arms.

"I suppose you changed your mind?" He asked between kisses as her hands found his belt buckle.

"I suppose so." She shot back, unbuckling his belt for good and sliding it out of the hoop so it was wide open. He chuckled, leaning back and letting her do whatever she wished.

She licked her lips as she worked on popping the button and then dragging down the zipper. His pants were tented, and he sighed in relief when the restricting zipper finally released him.

"Up." Sansa softly directed as she tried to wiggle his capri pants down. He shifted, lifting his hips so she could get them down on her own. His briefs were black and _tight._ The sight made her hot all over.

He was truly stunning to the eye. All lean and manly. A small dusting of hair where hair should be and not a trace on his body where it shouldn't be. His skin was tanned from the months spent here under this sun. And he smelled so strongly of musk and spice.

"Do you have a condom?" She asked, suddenly realizing that she didn't.

He nodded, gesturing to the pants still in her hands. She fished in the pockets to pull out a wallet, which was stuffed full with bills and credit cards. She looked past all of that to find the small square package in the back fold. Feeling the weight of it in her hand made everything suddenly so much more real. This was happening. Now was the time.

She chewed on her bottom lip, weighing her options yet again. Though she now seemed to be very swayed to one side as her brain was clouded with lust.

He seemed to notice her slight hesitation, for he reached for her, abruptly flipping them so he was on top. He didn't grab the condom from her, only continued kissing her, which she was grateful for. She just needed a minute.

He set his erection at her core and she moaned at the contact, rubbing against him. He broke their kiss to smirk wickedly down at her. "You like that, sweetling?" He purred, rocking his hips against hers. In response she moaned again, her eyes closed in bliss.

He chuckled; a dark laugh that promised a night full of sin. "Me, at your most sensitive area?" He added, rocking again.

_"Mmm…"_

"What was that?" He smirked.

"Dammit Petyr! Stop teasing me!" She snapped, making him laugh again.

He dragged his palm down her chest, between her breasts, as his hips moved against hers. "What do you want then, Sansa?" He asked gently, his eyes moving to the condom she was squeezing in her fist.

She licked her lips, drawing his attention back to her face. His eyes darkened when they landed on her lips. She could guess what he was picturing.

"You." She replied simply.

He smiled genuinely, lifting his hand to gently grab her chin. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip before replacing his finger with his lips. "My sweet, Sansa-"

"...Inside me." She finished, smirking mischievously.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise before his expression shifted and he _growled._ The sound stirred something within her. She _ached_ for him. For his cock. She wanted it.

His hands moved immediately down to her knickers and he hooked his fingers around the elastic band and pulled. She suddenly went quiet, feeling unmatched to him now that she was fully naked and at his mercy.

He seemed to sense this, but he didn't try to ease her discomfort. No, instead he gazed heatedly at her exposed core, licking his lips as if he's never seen a more delectable meal in his life.

"Beautiful." He breathed. It seemed as if he couldn't get any other words out. Just that one. Well, that and: "Sansa. Beautiful, beautiful."

She blushed, letting her eyes roam down his body. He was beautiful, too. She wanted to drag her tongue down his body and make him beg… her name the only word he can form.

Petyr held her gaze as her fingers traced along his muscles and curves of his bones, leading down his chest. His abdomen muscles tightened, clearly a little ticklish, as her fingertips grazed his lower stomach. When she hit the elastic band of his briefs, she watched as his jaw clenched and the muscles rippled for a moment.

"What do _you_ want, Petyr?" She asked, tilting her head to the side as she pulled down the last article of clothing separating the two of them.

He smirked as she got them low enough to free him completely, his erection springing to life before her. She left his briefs to fall to his knees on the bed in favour of touching his bare skin. He shivered, his eyes finally falling closed as her hand wrapped around him.

His skin was burning hot, and the tip of his cock was red and swollen… clearly in need of some attention. She stroked it a few times before feeling his hand creeping its way between her legs. The shared attention was wonderful and Sansa found it hard to concentrate on giving him pleasure while he gave it to her just as good.

She wanted to taste him, make him really squirm, but she felt as if there wasn't time for that. Maybe round two. But right now she needed to feel him inside.

She let go of him to unwrap the condom, the wrappings crinkled as she plucked it out. Petyr watched her with sick pleasure as she set it to his cock and rolled it down.

Petyr shifted on the bed, reaching down to completely remove his briefs, and then he fell forwards onto his hands and knees so their bodies were completely touching. He gave her a chaste kiss on the lips, light and sweet, before moving his mouth to her ear.

 _"I want to be inside of you."_ He whispered, answering her previous question with the same answer she provided him with.

She shivered, her hands bracing his shoulders. She could feel him nudging up against her folds, the sensation erupting butterflies within her stomach.

She wrapped her arms around him as he leaned down and began kissing her. She spread her legs wider for him as he guided his cock to press against her entrance. Just as his tongue poked out to slide against her's, he pressed inside.

She broke the kiss, gasping at the sudden intrusion. When her eyes met his, he groaned, pleasure etched into his expression. He seemed to fit perfectly inside her, his body made for her's. He started moving after a short moment he provided her to adjust to him. At first he just rocked, his eyes locked onto hers, but then that shifted to him withdrawing himself and thrusting back inside. It was a glorious rhythm. One that Sansa felt addicted to.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and hooked her ankles at the bottom of her spine to urge him on. Soon, the eye contact was too much for him and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, leaving a hot kiss against her skin.

 _"Petyr. Petyr."_ She moaned. He responded with a sharp groan as he moved his hips faster. Sansa was thrusting as well, trying to keep up with him.

He was now kissing her neck heatedly, giving her a sharp nip here and there as he sucked and licked. The skin of her neck was starting to feel a bit raw because of all his attention, so she twisted her fingers through his hair and yanked his head up so she could look at him again.

And what she saw streaked fear through her.

His pupils were blown wide and consuming, his mouth open as he panted, fangs in clear view. He had never looked so much like his true self: a vampire. He had never looked so intimidating before.

He clenched his jaw and growled again, the animal seemingly coming out in him. Sansa's eyes were wide as he fucked her, something deep in her gut twisting and telling her that something wasn't quite right.

His irises were completely swallowed whole by the dark depths of his pupils now. He was holding his weight up with one hand while the other gripped her hip tightly: bruisingly, so.

"Petyr, I-" She panted, trying to push on his chest. He didn't budge and his expression darkened as he stared her down like he were a predator and she, his prey. "Petyr!" She gasped, feeling scared now.

His hips ground harder into her and despite her better judgement, her body was beginning to react. She felt her walls fluttering, tightening around him, as a heat coursed through her veins.

He smirked, showing off his fangs once more before making an animalistic noise from somewhere deep within his chest. She knew then that she had made a horrible mistake. Though she didn't have a second to act before she felt those teeth sink into her neck.

He forced her head to the side for better access to her throat, and a flash of white caught her eye. It was the cloth, the handkerchief, that he had tied around his wrist.

Suddenly, as he fed mercilessly from her, she was screaming for more reasons than his cock.

Despite the pain and the fear, there was one traitorous thought that kept replaying in her mind as he drank her life's blood.

 _You, Petyr._ _You make me feel alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs nervously*
> 
> Wow, ambiguous ending. Funny story, I only decided as I was writing the smutty scene that I wanted it to end that way. Otherwise you were going to get a super sweet, fluffy ending. But nah, I decided to make it interesting. Apologies 😂.
> 
> Let me know if you caught the significance of the cloth around his wrist... Sansa really IS in trouble.
> 
> The Preservation Hall is a real place. And it's exactly as I described it. For anyone that loves jazz, it's a must.
> 
> And BEIGNETS!!!! Sooooo good. Promise.
> 
> The name of the chapters and the one line Petyr says earlier on is a little shoutout to my forever favourite vampire character: 
> 
> https://youtu.be/waG3qboEq_E
> 
> I wanted to write a vampire fic with this pairing, so I figured this was the perfect time to introduce my most favourite place in the world, as well as all the research that I have gathered over the last year.
> 
> I still might do a vampire fic with P&S that is supernatural, containing all the typical characteristics you would find in other fictional stories, but for now I hope you enjoyed this and learned something new about the rich culture and history of such a magical place.
> 
> Xx. Thanks for reading.


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